


the midnight oil

by detectivekimball



Category: Mad Men
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivekimball/pseuds/detectivekimball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>important work is done at night. set near the middle of season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the midnight oil

**Author's Note:**

> hey there. i haven't written a fic in well over six years or so (going between writing for a website for a living and doing my normal everyday gig), but the inspiration just came back. can't say this is my best or anything, just something to kind of get me back into the swing of all this. 
> 
> i sincerely hope it finds you well.

* * *

 

_JUNE 17TH, 1965_

_11:36 PM  
_

The sound of ice tumbling into glasses and loud, boisterous laughter were all the occupied the _almost_ empty offices of SCDP at this hour. Granted, it wasn't exactly a change of pace from how it usually was (and, as it had happened so many times in the past, Don Draper and Roger Sterling had settled for just drinking for free in the offices instead of going to a bar), but Don enjoyed them. Although he had told himself that he needed a break from... _unwinding_ so much, it was impossible to not drink around Roger. His Casanova charm didn't extend to Don, but he'll be damned if he didn't have fun around him.

Roger stumbled over to the bar to pour himself _another_ drink. "Do you remember the last time we did this?" he asked, coming dangerously close to slurring.

Don smiled, running his thumb around the ring of almost-empty glass. "How could I forget the powers of double-sided aluminum?" he said wryly.

Roger laughed heartily. "Don't get too cute over there. The way you're living these days, I'd keep an eye on that ticker like it was a h-bomb."

Don's eyes went to the floor. He didn't like to think about his health very much, mainly because it _did_ worry him. "I don't think it's fair to compare your problems to mine." Don said.

"Why not?" said Roger earnestly. "Just because you've got that haircut and that tan doesn't mean I don't know where you're coming from." He took a gulp of gin, then continued. "And believe me, I partake in shenanigans like this way less than I used to."

"Doesn't seem like it." Don said.

"That's because I only do things like this around you." Roger said. "You're like a straight Monty Clift."

Don chucked at the comparison. His eyes causally went to his watch. It wasn't late, but Don was looking forward to a modicum of solitude.

"Well, after a comparison like that, I think it's time I head on home." Don said, raising himself up.

Roger halfheartedly opened his hands to Don in almost a pleading manner. "You're really gonna make me go home right now? Do you have any idea what Jane does at night these days? She sits in the living room and plays that 'HELP!' record all goddamned night." He lit a cigarette and took a long bitter drag. "Call me vain, but... I never thought I'd lose to four limeys with bowl cuts."

Don wanted to tell Roger that's what he got for marrying a high school girl, but it was late and they were both drunk and he really had something else he had to do. "I think you'll manage." Don said as he turned the door handle. And, with a final nod of acknowledgement, Don left Roger to his thoughts and his booze. 

* * *

 

Don sat alone in his office, smoking a cigarette with veiled intent. His ears were perked up to make sure he heard Roger leave the offices a few minutes later. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he picked up the phone in his office and started dialing. The contours of his fingers dialed the rotary phones with ease. At this point, it was almost like muscle memory. 

The phone rang twice before Peggy Olson picked up.

"Hello?" she asked. 

He took a breath. "It's me."

"Oh." she replied. Don could tell he caught her off-guard from the way she responded (with a naivete she used to wield so well), but it did nothing to mask the interest in her voice. Then, after a beat, she responded.

"Is he gone?"

Don chuckled. "He just left."

Peggy swallowed. They hadn't been doing this for a while. It had only been about a week ago when they had first done it. Don had recently locked up a sit-down with the people over at Lufthansa and Roger had used it as an excuse to buy a bomb shelter's worth of liquor. All Peggy did was show up looking for a good time (and maybe a random guy to take home and screw for a few hours), but her night had  _actually_ ended with Don thrusting in and out of her with abandon, his face tucked into the nape of her neck as she held him close and rocked towards her orgasm. 

So, who was she kidding? She _had_ found a good time. And when he had asked (somewhat uncharacteristically, she thought) if they could do this again, she had no problem tracing her fingers along his chest and telling him that he knew where to find her.

The thought of the previous night still lingered in her mind with insatiable vigor. Even after catching herself getting lost in it all week ( _especially_  at night), it was still fresh. The marks Don had left on her neck felt like he had just left them there. The make-up she had caked on there hid it from everyone else, but it didn't stop her from reliving it. 

"I need you here in twenty minutes." Don said, breaking her out of her spell. In a different tone, it could've sounded like a demand, but it didn't. In fact, it belied a hungriness that made Peggy bite the inside of her lip expectantly. 

"Okay." was all that Peggy said. She hung up the phone, hailed a cab, and was on her way within two minutes of setting the phone down. 

On her way to the Time-Life Building, she sat with her hands in her lap as she looked out the window. It was a Thursday and there weren't that many people out on the side streets, but the city looked eerily beautiful when there wasn't a soul outside. 

Peggy thought about what the rest of her night would entail. The sex would be amazing, that didn't even bear mentioning. Don was the most well-built man she had ever slept with in almost every facet imaginable, but he was also the most giving. Nights of sweaty, desperate sex with Duck Phillips had made her appreciate  _that_ even more.

But, no matter how hard she tried to not think about it, she couldn't help but think of being one of Don's... well, Don's  _girls_. The ones that got charmed all night while they sat in hotel bars and drank gimlets. The ones who were still secret, but not classified.

The Faye Millers of the world.

Peggy smoothed out her skirt, trying to distract herself from these emotional tethers. The cabbie, a middle-aged Italian man with a face worn with scruff, looked in his rear-view.

"Time-Life. Wow." he said with candor. "You a businesswoman?"

Peggy nodded curtly. 

"Burnin' the midnight oil, huh?" he said, a sly smile on his face. 

Peggy smiled too. 

She certainly was. 

 

 


End file.
